Three evil-looking people stared at me whilst I sat gingerly in the chair opposite. All three carried that same look of insanity in their eyes, all of them poised to attack. The chair my butt had reluctantly decided to sit on was more like one of those electric death chairs and the sharp sliver of fear that travelled down my spine caused me to gulp. One particularly shy looking one stepped forward towards me, their black hair falling down in waves in front of me.
“Hello Megan” she whispered, reaching towards me and grabbing a chunk of ginger hair. Sighing, I allowed her to explore the mystery I call my hair. There wasn’t even any point in trying to correct her, as far as her and everyone else was concerned, I was Megan Chivonsky. Yipee.
The strange thing is, I was finally starting to accept that.
Instead of seeing it as a downfall, I miserably tried to think of it as ‘They need me’. Without me, their pathetic excuse for a heist fails and then what happens? Free passes to Jail. I came up with the theory last night, whilst I tossed and turned painfully in my bed. It was my own sick way of trying to re-assure myself. Plus, the thought of that letter made my insides twist into positions I could not physically endure. Imagine the horror the person must’ve been in to write that for the next victim. I shivered involuntarily. I just hope I never have to succumb to the same fate.
An abrupt cough snapped me back to reality- and sadly the people currently in it. By now, the woman with the black hair had stepped back and now a man with green hair- yes, green hair- peered down to inspect me. His diabolical hair was the shade of green that vaguely resembled seaweed. In other words, it’s not the best he could have picked.
The thought of wiggly green seaweed sprouting from the scalp of the man in front of me caused a un-lady like snort to escape and he frowned at me before pinching my cheeks.
“Ow!” I screeched my hand flying to my growingly red cheek. Blood rushed to them and I knew it was positively glowing beneath my palm. “You son of a-“
“Calm it” he growled angrily as he stepped back into line with the rest of the crazies. Cursing incoherently to myself, I fixed myself in the chair before the final lady, one who looked remotely normal in fact, knelt down in front of me. Her chocolate brown skin showed no flaws as her brown eyes roamed carefully across my freckled ridden face. Her black hair was tied back in a messy bun and she stood, walking around me ever still.
When that hot, blushing feeling left my cheek, I thought it safe to remove my hand and I cracked my knuckles as I understood the situation. The woman stepped back after what seemed like hours of inspection and all three cast a look of regret my way. Oh crud. The first woman, with the long black hair, smiled weakly before speaking softly.
“Now, this makeover may take quite a while. You have many features of Megan that will make it easy and your structure is good. Your collagen is too good to be Megan’s but I think we can work on it. However… ummm. Basically…”
“Basically this isn’t gonna be easy and you will be here for hours” the green hair dude clipped dryly as the woman who tried to speak before gave him a thanking smile. I raised an eyebrow at her sceptically. I can see why, I thought arrogantly as I coughed and straightened in the death chair.
“Okay. Get it over and done with, the sooner I’m out of this hell whole, the better” I said simply. “But first: your names” I demanded, feeling annoyed at the fact that I was referring to these people by their descriptions. Talk about long and agonising.
“I’m Mary-Anne” the first lady whispered, tucking one dark lock behind her ear. All in all, she resembled and acted like a mouse. I smiled somewhat weakly, wondering if she whispered all the time.
“I’m Luke” the only guy of the group seemed to boom towards me and again, I offered a weak smile. I detected a bit of a Scottish accent there. Finally, the last woman stepped forward and thrust out a hand.
“Kimberly but you can call me Kim for the period of your transformation” she said, smiling whilst shaking my hand. Her American accent was thick and made her seem really friendly.
For the first time, I gave a genuine smile, something I hadn’t done for weeks. “It is nice to meet you.”
“Okay, first things first! You have to cut and dye those ginger locks” Luke boomed again and I felt my eyes widen in horror as I suddenly got a grasp of my beloved hair.
“What?!”
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A dye job, hair-cut (quite drastically from half-way down my back to just below my shoulders!) and blow-dry later and I no longer looked like myself. Instead of the ginger I had grown so accustomed to over the years, my hair now hung in wavy brown locks around my heart-shaped face.
My green eyes shone brighter than before now that my hair was dark and my skin even seemed paler because of it. Kimberly smiled at me from behind me in the mirror. She proceeded to curl my hair as I sat in the chair, staring at a reflection I found difficult to call my own.
What the fudge have I got myself mixed up in?
A feeling of uneasiness travelled through my veins as she continued to curl my now dark hair and the nausea continued to mask every other emotion I felt, when soon the only feeling I did feel was one of wanting to throw up.
One second later and I had to dart from my seat into the nearest toilet before throwing up convulsively into the toilet. When I finished, I grabbed some tissues before wiping my mouth slowly. Grimacing, I tried to ignore the acidity burning my throat to nothing as I peered nervously into the toilet. I frowned as I saw a piece of bread floating in the yellowy-greeny mixture I had just regurgitated.
Funny, I thought. I don’t remember eating any form of bread this morning.
“Megan” I hear a voice whisper through the door and I just know that it’s Mary-Anne. Insecurity swallows me up as I huddle in the corner and start rocking back and forth. Ignoring the constant knocks and whispers through the door, I felt the familiar feeling of hyperventilation take place.
A rush of emotions knocked the breath out of me as I turned to face the door. The stupid woman was still whispering and on impulse, I kicked the door with all my might, watching the wood chip away from the freshly made dent. I continued to do so, screaming with every glucose using cell in my body.
“I am HANNAH! Okay Hannah! I have ginger hair, green eyes, love acting and I can’t stand sushi to save my life! I am 17 years old! LEAVE ME ALONE!” I shrieked as I finally broke down and shed the tears I didn’t know I had within me.
YOU ARE READING
Stolen Identity
Mystery / Thriller'You'd like to think you are sure of yourself. You know who you are, what you like, your interests and your dislikes. Your identity is more than just what it says it is. It's your token to life and acceptance in some cases. And then that's taken awa...
